


Persuasion Check

by robotfvckers



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: :3c, Choking, First Meetings, M/M, Manhandling, Penis In Vagina Sex, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Sortof, bot handling, lma o, omnichandling, valveplug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 16:21:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12280128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotfvckers/pseuds/robotfvckers
Summary: Hanzo doesn't believe his brother would bow to an omnic. Zenyatta proves he is more than he appears.





	Persuasion Check

**Author's Note:**

> A short, spicy Hanyatta drabble based on [nsfwank's art](https://nsfwank.tumblr.com/post/166052576725/hanyatta-zanzo-hanzen%22).

The man has Zenyatta on his back before the omnic realizes his presence, orbs scattering in a cacophony of chimes. He fists his servos into his hair, sensors registering its silken texture. The harsh thunk of an arrow’s point inches from his faceplate rings in his aural receptors. Pressure at his wrist, his mechanics whispering as he tugs Zenyatta’s arm over his shoulder, grip tight enough to hurt.

“Do not move.” The man orders, gruff and low, authoritative, like he is used to being obeyed.

That is when Zenyatta knows.

The pistons at his neck groan beneath the weight of his knee, his other foot planted against the ground, prepared for a fight. Zenyatta loosens his fingers from his scalp but doesn’t remove his hand.

“You must be Hanzo.”

Zenyatta’s array glows as he studies the terse face half hidden by a curtain of black hair, shifting slightly. Hanzo growls, tugs Zenyatta’s hand harder, back behind his body.

“Do not test me, monk.”

“Apologies. I am unused to being man-handled.”

Hanzo glowers.

“Why are you following my brother?”

Zenyatta doesn’t move. How long had Hanzo been watching them? Not very, from how worried he seems, anger pronounced in the fine lines of his face and the twist of his lips. Even so, he is handsome, just like his brother.

“Genji is my student.”

Hanzo balks, cranes forward with a snarl; warning signals ping through his systems, his pistons at risk of crumpling.

“A machine as a master.” He clicks his tongue. “Your kind are little more than slaves.”

“Perhaps it would be prudent to ask him yourself.” Zenyatta shifts, and Hanzo’s bicep bulges with the force he exerts upon Zenyatta’s wrist, jaw clenched tight.

The elder Shimada bristles like his family’s beast, the lines of ink doubling in his array as it bubbles with power, his dark eyes shimmering blue. Zenyatta’s energy responds in turn, orbs turning from their places on the ground, flickering with gold.

“If you will not face him, I can show you that I am more than I appear.”

* * *

 

He could fight, prove to Hanzo with purples and golds the power he wields, the same display of skill that had spurred curiosity in his brother. However, Hanzo is prepared to fight, yearns for it, and Zenyatta does not wish to harm him.

So he shows Hanzo his power in other ways, ways that Hanzo had left behind, had perhaps barely known beneath the unwavering eyes of his clan.

The human curls his calloused fist around Zenyatta’s throat; he is strong enough to crush connections to critical functions, has the power to offline Zenyatta with a single, brutal squeeze. Zenyatta allows Hanzo that power, and in return Hanzo allows Zenyatta to shift his tattered pants down. Hanzo’s face twists, at first puzzled, then flushed, brow low when Zenyatta’s modesty panel recedes with a gentle hiss.

“Here.” Zenyatta murmurs. “Allow me to touch you.”

Hanzo doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. Zenyatta nods, one hand catching against Hanzo’s _gi_ while his other traces just above the teal swell between his legs, mostly offline but warming beneath the other's gaze.

The first brush of his servos against Hanzo’s cock startles him, the hand at his throat tightening, metal groaning in its grip. Zenyatta’s hum vibrates against his palm as he gropes Hanzo through his clothes, the outline of his cock filling with shocking swiftness beneath his fingers. Hanzo is so quiet, eyes falling half-mast, face darkened and more unreadable than Zenyatta has seen it, mouth tugged into a thin line. Zenyatta circles his hand around his valve, teasing himself while he strokes Hanzo, growing warm and wet while his cock swells against his palm, dampens the fabric between them. Hanzo need not say anything. He does not resist, does not move away even as he plays at indifference. Perhaps he feels brave, in control. They are miles away from anyone: he had sent Genji ahead to scout the nearest town, and the forest grants them privacy. Maybe this is how Hanzo always finds his pleasure, in hushed, harried encounters with near strangers, the silence a fog between them.

“Enough.” Hanzo says, though it is soft, lower than he means.

Rather than release Zenyatta, Hanzo undoes his pants with one hand, attempting elegance and failing as he blushes and works his lip between his teeth.

He looks so young, making sure his pants only slip enough to work his cock from his underclothes, thick and fat, cherry red at the tip that flushes halfway down his shaft.

 _Pretty_ , Zenyatta thinks, but dares not say, especially when Hanzo dips suddenly, the tip of his ruddy, pearled cock nudging against the sensor just above his valve, shocking a huff from his synth. He parts his valve with his cockhead, dragging it against his leaking slit, coating his cock with Zenyatta’s lube, and a heady thrum of need onlines within, forcing Zenyatta’s hips back, angling unconsciously to be breached.

“Your reactions are quite convincing.” He grumbles, though there’s a tightness to his words that wasn’t there before, a heated wonderment.

Zenyatta locks his ankles behind Hanzo’s back as Hanzo sinks inside him in a single, rude press, his valve parting and clinging, wet and molten. Their gasps echo as Hanzo bottoms out with a quiet smack.

The hand at his throat never relinquishes its grip, muffles all his clicks and chirrups as Hanzo fucks him, slow and unsure at first, as if he doesn't quite know how. Zenyatta cares little, enraptured by the bright, heated tint that covers Hanzo from ear to throat, rouged like a man decades younger, fucking like one after he finds his pace, deep and unrelenting, never withdrawing more than a few inches before burying his cock to its base. Angry, eager to prove his worth, or perhaps needy, had denied himself this for so long and now aches to claim, claim his pleasure as he claims Zenyatta, breeds him like a base thing.

Zenyatta is content to gently tease his own sensor, pleasure shivery and deep yet not enough to offline him, but Hanzo smacks his hand away as he grows mindless, teasing his thumb over the swollen nub that pulses beneath the harsh, grinding presses.

“I will not be made a fool.”

 _Ah_. Zenyatta thinks as he whimpers. _That is how he sees this_. His pleasure spikes at the inexperienced, mean presses that grow bolder and more tactful as he reacts to Zenyatta’s moans, learning him as Hanzo learned anything, with masterful eyes and determination that has let him survive for so long.

Zenyatta wonders idly how Hanzo will react when he starts to glow, when he touches the Iris as Hanzo forces pleasure through his systems and floods them with harmony, warm and overwhelming.

As he stares into the heated gaze of a great dragon and cannot fight the waves of feedback flaring like a storm within him, he supposes he will see.


End file.
